


Share Your Light

by Violet_Jones



Series: Backdrifting [3]
Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Gallagher Party, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7634560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Jones/pseuds/Violet_Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three to four weeks after "Backdrifting" (AU: Canon-divergent from ep 305) - Ian reunites with Mandy, and Mickey goes back to the old neighborhood to party with the Gallaghers.</p><p>Firsts: Time Ian sees Mandy in a decade. Time Mickey attends a Gallagher get-together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh, Mandy!

Mickey’s been seeing Ian for about three weeks when he decides to let Mandy know about what’s been going on between them.

Normally, he wouldn’t wait so long to inform her about major things happening in his life, but in this case there were other contingents that made him hold his tongue at first. She’s probably going to be pissed at him for keeping it from her, even for such an ultimately paltry amount of time, but so be it.

They’ve both been at the bar all day having meetings and going over boring managerial shit, and decide to have a few pints by themselves once they clock out. They haven’t spent much time together in months now, because Mandy has been basically all-consumed in her own new relationship situation. In that way, it’s been easy for Mickey to fly under the radar lately.

“So, guess who I ran into the other day?” he says after a lull in their still mostly work-based conversation.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Mandy deadpans.

“Ian,” Mickey states calmly.

“ _Ian_?” Mandy pauses shaking her head and wracking her brain, then making a face. “As in _Gallagher_?” and her voice goes up an octave at the end.

“The one and only,” Mickey confirms.

“ _Ho-ly shit_! Wow! That is random as fuck! How does he look? What’s he like? Tell me everything!” Mandy rushes out.

“He looks. . . really, really fuckin’ good. He’s still, you know. . . Ian. Nice, goofy, ridiculous, etcetera. . .”

“What the fuck, Mickey? That’s all you’ve gotta say? Why didn’t you call me? Or give him my number at least?”

Mickey’s face looks guilty and he hesitates on how to get this out exactly.

“Oh my god!” Mandy exclaims lowly, but excitedly. _“You didn’t!”_ Her eyes run up, down, and around his face trying to get a read on him. " _You totally did! You fucked him!"_

“Jesus, Mandy, will you keep it down?”

“Why? Who the fuck cares? I can’t believe you!” she says, emphasizing her words by slapping him on the arm repeatedly while her eyes grow wider and wider. “You fucked Ian _fucking_ Gallagher after like, what, _ten_ fucking years of not seeing each other or talking at all? Just like that!”

Mickey shrugs, running a hand through his hair. He’s not sure why he’s nervous talking about this with someone finally. “Basically, yes?”

“Oh. My. God. I can’t. . . I can’t even. . .” she stutters, shaking her head.

Mickey rolls his eyes, “Okay, Tumblr fangirl, chill the fuck out and figure out how to use your words.” He pauses. “There’s kinda more to it than that. More than sex, I mean.”

She narrows her eyes. “More than sex? What more can you do than fuck? Is there like some other gay man thing that I’ve never heard of that’s like bigger than full penetration? Is it _fisting_?” She grimaces and scrunches her nose up.

“Jesus, you are so fuckin’ dense sometimes,” he snorts, shaking his head. “We, um, we’ve kinda been seein’ each other.”

She stares at him for a beat and makes an uncomprehending sort of look. “I’m not following. You said you ran into him the other day. You’ve fucked him more than once since then?”

“Okay, what I should have said, maybe when I started, is that I first ran into him a few weeks ago. So, we’ve been seein' each other since then.”

Mandy is still fixing him with the same incredulous look. “Wait a minute, wait a minute, hold up. . . You’re telling me that you’re like _dating_ Ian Gallagher right now? Like, you’re like _with_ him?”

“Yes, okay, fuck! You’re makin' me feel insanely nervous right now. I haven’t told anyone about Ian, okay? I didn’t know how to bring it up, and I wanted to make sure it was actually goin’ somewhere before I said anything to you about it. And yes, before you ask, he has asked about you multiple times. He wants to see you. And now that I’ve told you, we’ll make that happen. Soon.”

“Oh my god.”

“Is that like the only phrase left in your puny fuckin’ brain right now? I mean, can you please say somethin’ else? Anything.”

“I mean. . .” she starts grinning then, and the grin finally blossoms into a full-blown smile. “I think that’s kind of amazing, actually.”

“ _Really_?” Mickey says skeptically, an uncertain look on his face. He starts worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and that’s when Mandy notices how on edge he actually is.

“Hey,” she says more softly, reaching out for his hand. “Yes, I think it’s amazing that you’re finally giving someone a chance. . . Doing more than just having sex and conceding to boring-ass companionship just so you’re not completely alone. If you’re actually letting someone in, or at least trying to, then that’s fucking huge, Mick, and I’m proud of you.” She sits back and pulls her hand away, taking a swig of her beer. “And the fact that it’s Ian,” she shakes her head with a chuckle, “I don’t know why, but to me it just makes perfect fucking sense somehow.”

Mickey let’s a smile slip loose then, and he visibly relaxes at her words. “I know, right? It’s fuckin’ weird as shit, but I don’t know. . . I think it’s kinda workin’. I mean, it’s not even been a full month, so who the fuck can tell, but he doesn’t make me wanna run. In fact, he almost makes me wanna care.”

“Mickey, I’ve got news for ya,” Mandy says. “You’ve cared about Ian since you were like 17 years old. You were just too much of a pussy to ever fully realize it. Until now apparently, so good for you, I guess. Better late than never and all that.”

“Maybe. I just hadn’t even thought about him since I don’t know when, and then all of a sudden he was right there, and it was almost like no time had passed at all. That’s never happened to me before.”

Mandy snorts derisively. “That’s because you’ve never really had a lot of friends. I mean, you barely ever hang out with anyone you know that isn’t me. And it’s not like you kept any contact with anyone from back in the day.”

“Right, well, whatever. The fact remains that this whole thing has been strange as fuck, but I’m kind of okay with it.”

“Yeah, you better be. There’s no one I’d rather have as a brother-in-law,” she says, smirking.

“Alright, you can stop right there, bitchface,” Mickey warns.

Mandy simpers, sing-songing, “Mick-ey’s got a _boy_ -friend!”

He rolls his eyes again, harder this time, “You gonna start singin’ the fuckin’ K-I-S-S-I-N-G song next? You fuckin’ child.”

“If it’ll annoy you enough, then sure!” she replies, then starts singing, “Mick-ey and I-an sittin’ in a tree–”

“I fuckin’ hate you so much,” he interjects with a small laugh he can’t help letting escape.

“Whatever, assface, you fuckin’ love me!” Mandy responds. “Now. . . get your goddamn boyfriend down here asap, I need to have a chat with his ginger ass.”

“What, right now?”

“Why not? It’s like 6:30. Is he busy?”

“Don't know. Probly off work by now, but I don’t keep tabs on his every move.”

“Well, call him, or text him, or whatever,” she pleads, motioning with her hands. “See what he’s up to.”

Mickey sighs as if extremely put out. “Fine.”

He fishes his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it to text Ian, while Mandy retreats to the bar to get another round for them.

> **Mickey** : Sup, Red. What are you doing?
> 
> **Ian** : Just got home. Wanna come over?
> 
> **Mickey** : Nah, was thinking you could come meet up at the bar? I’m with Mandy.
> 
> **Ian** : YOU TOLD HER?!?!?!
> 
> **Mickey** : Lol. Yeah. She wants to see you.
> 
> **Ian** : On my way!!!!!

Unlike Mickey, who keeps his phone on silent pretty much always, and may take a while to get back to people when he’s not paying attention, Ian is almost always completely aware of his phone and keeps the notification tones on loud, much to Mickey’s constant chagrin. He does, however, enjoy how easy it is to make plans with Ian, given that he’s not only readily available and unapologetic about it, but also extremely laid back and easy going about whatever they do or don’t do. It’s been very low-pressure thus far, at least.

“Alright,” he tells Mandy, once she returns from chatting with the bartender, beers in hand. “He’s on his way.”

“Yay!” she actually bounces in her seat and claps, once her hands are free. “I still can’t believe it! I love Ian. Ian’s the best.” She sighs wistfully.

“Alright, calm down, he’s datin’ me, not you.”

“Yeah, well, he used to date _me_ , so fuck you.”

“Bitch, you wish! Fake dating does not equal _actual_ dating. You were his beard for like half a second, cuz he didn’t wanna get his ass beat, then you started _actually_ fuckin' his total douchebag of a brother.”

“Ugh, do _not_ mention Lip Gallagher to me. We’re talking about Ian. And I dated Ian more than you ever did, jerk. You just got railed by his cock every once in a while.”

“Pretty sure I got the better end of the deal.”

“Only because I don’t have a dick. Otherwise, _you’d_ be the fuckin’ in-law, and he’d be _my_ future husband.”

“Maybe I need to cancel this little reunion hour. It sounds like you have seriously shady intentions toward my b–” he stops himself just in time, but Mandy hears the ‘buh’ sound clear as day.

“Your what! Your WHAT?”

“Fuck off, Mandy!”

“You were gonna say your boyfriend! You totally were just gonna call him your boyfriend!”

“Okay, okay,” Mickey chides, gesturing with his arms for her to settle the fuck down. “You need to take it down a few notches before Gallagher actually fuckin’ gets here. I don’t need the two of you actin’ like a couple of school kids hopped up on _Pixy Stix_ , gangin’ up on me about gay-ass shit like this.”

“You mean giddily calling you out on the fucking _truth_?”

“Whatever, just relax, okay? He’s probly already on the L right now. He’s only a few stops down. Pull your shit together.”

Settling Mandy down, however, just isn’t in the fucking cards, and she keeps anxiously turning towards the door every thirty seconds hoping to get the first glimpse of Ian walking through it. Her enthusiasm seems to be infectious though, and instead of generating a deep scowl and stoicism in Mickey like it normally would, he smiles more than usual and appears looser in demeanor as he sits casually sipping his beer.

Mickey’s gaze immediately finds Ian when he does walk in, and Mandy notices the flicker in Mickey’s eyes and the subtly higher lift to the corners of his mouth, and she turns around to check out older Ian. Their eyes lock, he smiles sincerely from ear-to-ear, and she let’s out a fucking high-pitched squeal of delight, before catapulting out of her seat. Mickey watches in amusement as they bolt towards one another like a fucking terrible movie with a dramatic reunion scene that all the ladies sigh and tear up over.

Ian lifts Mandy up with his arms and swings her around in a circle a few times, making it even more ridiculous. Even when he puts her down, he doesn’t let go, and they stay embracing for a long moment. When they do let go, she drags him by the hand over to the table and they giggle like children as they sit down, staring at each other, but not really saying anything. Neither of them even spare Mickey a glance.

“Uhhhh, hello? You two just gonna fuckin’ stare at each other all night? I thought you had soooo much to fuckin’ talk about?” Mickey asks.

Ian looks over at him, finally acknowledging his presence. “Hey,” he says, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Then he turns back to Mandy, “So, what the fuck is up?”

“Um, I don’t know, you tell me. Apparently you’ve been banging my brother again for weeks now, and lying to me about it!”

Ian laughs, “Mands, how can I fucking lie to you about something if I haven’t talked to you in nearly a decade?”

“Yeah, good point, you motherfucker. Which reminds me. . .”

She punches him hard on the nearest arm.

“Ow! Fuck!” he says, retracting it and rubbing it with his other hand.

“You deserve one to the kisser, but I’m being nice!” she menaces. “I can’t believe you ditched me and never talked to me again, Fuckface.”

“Mands,” Ian starts, “I didn’t mean to, okay? Shit was so messed up back then. I wanted to. . . I wanted to take you with me when I left, but I. . .” He looks at Mickey in an apologetic way, before looking back at Mandy and continuing, “I couldn’t ask you to go, because of Mick, and I thought you’d be furious with me for not waiting. I was just. . . I didn’t know what else to do, so I just stopped calling. Which you did too, by the way. It’s not like I ignored all your many attempts to get in touch with me, or anything. We dropped each other. And it sucks, but it happened. So let’s just forget about it. We can start over.”

Mandy sighs. “Is that what you two assholes are doing? Starting over?”

Mickey looks from Mandy to Ian, uncomfortable with the confrontation they have immediately fallen into. Everything about their coming back together is so different from Ian and Mickey’s, from the hugging and the spinning, to the punching and the harsh truths and upfront questions. But he supposes friendships are different than sexual relationships. Each of the siblings meant something different to Ian, and their dynamics together were nothing alike. If Ian and Mandy were both going to be in Mickey’s life now, he’d have to get used to whatever it was the two of them had between them as well.

When they were younger, Ian and Mickey had spent most of their time hiding what they really were in front of Mandy. In fact, she’d only found out about them on accident, after walking in on them _in flagrante_ one morning when everyone was supposed to be out of the house for hours to come. She’d been pissed at first, when she found out how long they’d both been lying to her, but then the more she’d talked to them about it (separately and with Ian making a much better case than Mickey, who didn’t offer much of an explanation at all), she’d understood why they did. And she’d loved them both more than anyone else in her life at that point, so she’d felt she had no choice other than to forgive them for it. But not long after that, it was over anyway, and she’d lost them both for a while, and she’d had to replace them each with someone new.

Ian looks at Mickey then, his eyes softening, as if asking permission before answering Mandy’s question. Mickey gives a barely perceptible lift of a shoulder and twitch of his lips, which Ian accepts as a go-ahead. “Yeah. We’re giving it a go. And I’m so glad you know about it. I’ve been hounding him for your number since the night we ran into each other on the street. I missed you so much. I hope you know that.”

Mickey sees Mandy getting teary at that, and she reaches a hand out to caress Ian’s, “Me too.”

They stay in their silent, lingering stares, and Mickey rolls his eyes. “Alright, that’s enough maudlin bullshit. Let’s get drunk!” he yells, banging a fist on the table and interrupting their reverie.

Ian laughs and Mandy glowers, and it makes Mickey feel a nostalgic sense of fondness for them both, seeing them together like that. Goofy & Gloomy.

“Get me a beer, Mick?” Ian requests.

“Yeah, I’ll get a pitcher,” he answers, rising. “You need anything else?”

“Not right now, thanks,” says Ian.

“Yeah, I’m okay too!” Mandy calls after him snarkily, and turns back to Ian, shaking her head. “You got him whipped already. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

Ian snorts, “From what he’s told me, you’re the one that got him whipped. You got him to quit smoking? They should give you a National Medal of Valor or some shit. That’s an amazing feat.”

She chuckles, “Yeah, actually, it really was. I still can’t believe it worked. But I went on this huge health kick for a while, and I just rampaged until I got my way. It was pretty funny. Mickey was a total mess for a while. I thought he was gonna snap and murder someone accidentally.”

“Alright, well, talk to me when I’ve gotten him to give up something he loves as dearly as cigarettes.”

“Oh, you mean like other dicks?” she asks, licking her lips suggestively.

Ian groans. “Please don’t bring that up right now. He might feel like he has something to prove.”

Mandy shakes her head. “Calm down, my brother wouldn’t do that to you. I know it’s only been a few weeks, but I know how he is about you. I don’t think you gotta worry.”

“We haven’t really explicitly said anything about being exclusive, it’s just sorta been implied. I mean, I don’t think he’s had time to get any on the side, and I think he’d tell me if he did, it’s just, you know, we’re trying to go slow. So tacit commitment is working out okay, for now.”

“Yeah, that’s smart. Always gotta handle that douchebag with kid gloves,” Mandy says. “I can’t believe you guys just ran into each other in the middle of the street. That’s wild.”

“I know,” admits Ian. “It was a total trip. Like seeing a fucking ghost or something. But it made me happy, though. That’s what kinda surprised me, I guess. That I wasn’t mad or anything, and that I wanted to know him again.”

“It’s so romantic,” Mandy sighs, as Mickey approaches from behind, overhearing her.

“Alright, can the cheeseball shit,” he commands, setting a pint glass down in front of Ian and pouring him a beer before setting the pitcher on the table. “Tell Ian about your latest sugar daddy.”

Mandy rolls her eyes. “I pay my own fucking way, thank you very much. Brady is kinda rich though,” she tells Ian.

“Brady sounds like a rich white boy name,” says Ian.

“Ugh, I know, it’s a shit name, but he’s awesome,” she replies.

“He looks like a fuckin’ young Colonel Sanders,”mocks Mickey.

Ian laughs.

“Fuck you, he _does_ not!” Mandy bellows, stomping her foot under the table. “He doesn’t,” she says to Ian. “Mickey just has a problem with dudes he perceives to be bearded hipsters.”

“He _is_ a fuckin’ bearded hipster, Mandy!”says Mickey. “Like, textbook. You could look him up in the Encyclopedia Douche-tannica.”

Ian laughs again, eyes darting between the two siblings. He hadn’t realized how much he missed these little Milkovich sparring matches. He’d never seen two people so lovingly insult each other on a near constant basis. They were so cute and angry.

“You hate everyone I date, and you always have!” Mandy accuses.

“Maybe you should get some fuckin’ taste then!” Mickey retorts.

“Whatever, you fucker, you _stole_ the best boyfriend I ever had!” she cries, looking pointedly at Ian, whose mouth drops open in disbelief, and he looks to Mickey for a defense, finding only raised eyebrows and a small frown looking back at him.

“Please don’t drag me into this shit, okay?” Ian says, looking back to Mandy. “I’m not up for grabs, I’m neutral territory. Consider me Switzerland. I’m sure Brady is a lovely person, and I’m looking forward to meeting him, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Mandy acquiesces, before kicking Mickey in the shin.

“Ow!” yelps Mickey. “You fuckin’ bitch!”

“That’s what you get for talkin’ shit twenty-four-seven!” she says.

Mickey opens his mouth to continue the argument, but Ian places a hand on his thigh under the table and shoots him a look that says, ‘drop it,’ so he does.

“So, Mands,” Ian says, switching gears, “the bar looks fucking amazing! Mickey told me that was all you.”

“ _Really_?” she asks skeptically, shooting Mickey a look of disbelief, before turning back to Ian. “Yeah, I mean, it wasn’t _all_ me, but I did have a lot of say. I wanted to have the all glass front, and the open floor plan. They overrode me on the color scheme, but otherwise, a lot of my concepts got used.”

“Look at you, all fuckin’ business woman and shit,” Ian says proudly.

Mandy smiles genuinely. “I know. It’s fuckin’ crazy. I still have trouble believing it some days. I got lucky.” She looks at Mickey again. “We both did.”

“Really fuckin’ lucky,” Mickey agrees.

“We’ve gotta plan something soon,” Mandy tells Ian. “You have to meet everyone! A dinner party, or something fancy like that.”

“Sure,” Ian responds. “Gimme your number, since Mickey won’t let me get it from him.”

Mickey imitates him with mocking lip movements, scrunching his face up, like an elementary school comeback.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s just jealous of our bond,” Mandy says with a pointed look.

Ian types her number into his phone and texts her so she can record his.

“Officially friends again,” Ian vows, pocketing his cell.

“Better be, Asshole,” Mandy says. “What the hell you been doing the last ten years?” She pauses. “Lemme guess. . . Personal trainer.”

Ian snickers, shaking his head, “Nope.”

“But you’re all buff and shit,” she says, reaching over and feeling up his arm.

“Watch the hands,” chastises Mickey, swigging his beer.

“I work out,” Ian says. “I’ve always worked out, or did you forget?”

“No, I remember. You were always hot as fuck. Made me so mad that the hottest bod at school was gay as shit,” Mandy laments.

“I was okay with it,” jokes Mickey.

Ian chuckles. “As much as I like being complimented on my toned physique, I’m not gonna let another sibling war break out while we finish these beers,” he says. “I’m in advertising.”

“Gross,” answers Mandy, pulling another laugh from Ian.

He shrugs. “Yeah, but I’m kinda good at it, actually, and I kinda like it.”

“Wouldn’t’ve pegged you for a desk jockey, though,” Mandy remarks.

“What can I say?” Ian retorts.

“Leave him alone, Mands, fuck,” Mickey says, sensing Ian’s slight discomfort at the topic. “He said he’s happy, so shut the fuck up.”

“I can’t believe you’re giving this fucking idiot another try,” Mandy tells Ian. “I mean, what’s wrong with you? How are you still single, anyway?”

Mickey opens his mouth to interrupt her line of questioning again, but Ian intervenes before he can. “I don’t know Mandy,” he says, smirking and looking Mickey dead in the eye. “There’s just something about Mickey, I guess. Can’t stay away.”

Mandy sits back and notes the vibes that run between them as they gaze at one another fully and openly in a way she hasn’t been privy to before. She sees the affection plain as day, and the understanding that seems to draw them together. This was that intangible thing that she’d thought of before when she’d told Mickey that they make sense together. It was something she’d glimpsed just in passing once or twice when they were all kids. There was something fundamental in Ian and Mickey that just seemed to gel in ways that no one else could with either of them. Especially not with her brother. He was a rare breed, indeed.

“Well,” she finally says, “that’s disgustingly sweet and super gay.”

“You should hear some of the shit your big, bad brother says to me in private,” Ian teases.

“‘Ey!” Mickey warns. “You better fuckin’ watch it, Firecrotch, if you wanna keep gettin’ this ass any time soon!”

Mandy snorts. “Whatever, right before you got here, he almost called you his b–” Mickey slaps a hand over her mouth from across the table, but the ‘buh’ sound is heard by all.

“What!” Ian exclaims. “He called me his b–” Mickey slaps his other hand over Ian’s mouth, and they all sit there with eyes darting around comically, Mickey looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Then Ian and Mandy give each other a meaningful look, and they both lick Mickey’s palms at the same time, causing him to retract both hands in disgust, as they both howl, “BOYFRIEND!”

“Ugh!” Mickey yells, wiping his hands on his shirt front. “Yes, okay? Yes! I was gonna call him my fuckin’ boyfriend! It was an accident. I didn’t mean to say it. You fuckin’ happy now?”

Equally wide smiles of delight paint both Ian and Mandy’s faces at Mickey’s outburst.

“I’m pretty happy,” Ian says, looking at Mandy.

“Decently satisfied,” Mandy concurs.

“I hate you both,” Mickey deadpans.


	2. Gallaghers, Ho!

They’re mid-fuck when Ian starts in asking Mickey if he'll come to a family gathering at his sister’s house that weekend.

Ian’s sweaty face is rubbing up against his, and they're in a kind of seated positionin the middle of the bed with Mickey in Ian’s lap, just sort of rocking back and forth slowly. Their session's been long, languid, and hot. . . until Ian pulls back, looks him right in the eye and says, “Will you come with me to Fiona’s on Sunday?” all matter-of-fact like.

Mickey feels a ripple of anger boil up at Ian bringing up shit like that when he has his dick up his ass, and he fights not to lose his hard-on right then and there. “What the fuck, Ian?” he asks, and immediately stops moving his body.

Ian, though, keeps thrusting up into him like it's nothing. “Come on, I saw Mandy the other day, now I want you to see my family. Get it all out of the way.” He grunts, still enjoying their union.

“ _Really?_ Now you’re bringing my sister up right now? What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Mickey feels anything but sexy anymore.

Ian rolls his eyes and flips them so that he's on top of Mickey, pumping his hips _just so_ , sliding up against Mickey’s prostate, issuing pleasured sounds from him once more as he goes harder and faster again.

“Fuck. . . you!” Mickey shouts between moans.

“Come on, Mick. I already told them you’d be there,” Ian pants out.

“Jesus! I fuckin'. . . hate you.” And then Mickey is coming, and it feels like one of the most uncomfortable orgasms of his goddamn life.

He pushes Ian off of him and rolls over onto his stomach, showing his disdain by letting him finish himself off. Ian tears off the condom and jacks off until he comes all over Mickey’s back.

“Thanks a lot, dickface! You better clean that off quick, before I destroy you.”

Ian snorts, but Mickey hears him fumble around the side of the bed, and return with a discarded t-shirt to wipe the jizz off of Mickey’s back, before kissing the area, like that makes it all better.

“Sorry,” Ian says cursorily, not sounding at all sincere.

Mickey flips over onto his back again. “What the hell was that? Don’t ever start a fuckin' serious conversation with me during sex ever again. That shit is not funny or cute. Not to mention, either of our sister’s names, or brother’s for that matter. . . total boner killers. You’re fuckin' gross, dude.”

“Okay, I said I was sorry.”

“Didn’t sound like you meant it, though.”

“I do. I’m sorry. I just didn’t know how to bring it up without freaking you out, and I guess it just slipped out, because I’d been thinking about it all day.”

Mickey scoffs. “So that was your brilliant idea _not_ to freak me out? You are fucked in the head sometimes, Firecrotch.”

Ian sighs. “Okay, I can’t keep apologizing. Please just come to Fiona’s with me on Sunday? Everyone’s gonna be there. . . big Gallagher shindig. . . I wanna be out to everyone. I don’t wanna feel like I’m hiding with you ever again. It’s important for us to have a clean slate, and have it not be anything like before. I didn’t like not telling Mandy, and I don’t like not telling my family either.”

“I thought you said they were already expectin' me?”

“Well, not _you_ per se, just a guy I said I was seeing that I wanted them to meet.”

“Fuck,” Mickey says, “so you’re just springin' it on 'em for shits and giggles?”

“No, I just think it’ll be easier if they have no expectations. It’s gonna be hard to get them to give you a fucking chance, so I figure, let’s not let them build up their defenses,” Ian says, pausing. “Plus, it would be pretty funny to see the looks on their faces.”

And the looks do end up being pretty priceless.

 

* * *

 

“I feel like I’m walkin' into the fuckin' lion’s den,” Mickey says, as they approach the house on Wallace St. that Sunday evening.

Ian throws his arm across Mickey’s shoulders in a comforting manner. “Quit worrying so much, it’s gonna be fine. Even if they can’t get over it, I don’t care. And I know you don’t really care what they think of you. All that matters is us. This is just something we have to do. Just remember, aside from Lip, you’re doing better than the rest of them combined, so if anything just ride that sense of superiority, but don’t be a dick about it.”

Mickey snorts. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Just know that this isn’t gonna be like a regular thing. Next time you come over here, I’ll go hang out with my dimwit brothers until you’re done.”

“Whatever you say, Mick.”

They were at the front gate now, and raucous laughter and shouting could be heard from around the back, the smell of fire pit smoke lingering in the air.

Mickey feels like he's being marched back into the old neighborhood to be dissected by the world’s shittiest, yet most judgmental family, and he knows it's going to be an uphill battle to get them to see him as anything other than the brash, swaggering, dirty thug he’d been when he was a kid. He hasn’t had to deal with that old perception of him in a long time, which is one of the myriad reasons he rarely makes it back to South Side.

He wipes a hand over his face as Ian swings the gate open. “Alright, let’s fuckin’ do this.”

He lets Ian lead the way past the side of the house and into the backyard. Debbie is the first to spot her brother, and she let’s out a loud cry of, “IAN!” which causes the rest of the party to turn towards him and echo, “IAN!” before they all descend on him with hugs and kisses, like they haven’t seen him in years.

Mickey manages to stay back, slightly in the shadows like a creep, as he takes in the aged versions of the entire Gallagher clan. The younger ones have changed the most, but they were also the ones he’d had the least amount of interaction with before. The baby is now a tall teenager, though, and that's the most jarring. Debbie's lost most of her baby fat, and Carl almost looks like a full-blown adult. Fiona's still pretty, Lip still looks like a pretentious douche, and the Balls still look exactly the same.

“Soooo?” he hears Fiona say. “Where’s your guy?”

“Uhhh, yeah,” Ian replies, turning back to look at him. “Mick?”

And suddenly all eyes are on him as he steps farther out into the light like some big cheesy reveal, and gives an awkward as fuck, milquetoast greeting. “Hey guys.”

A cacophony of different responses erupt from the peanut gallery:

“ _Mickey_?”

“ _Milkovich_?”

“What the _fuck_?”

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me!”

“Well, I’ll be damned!”

“Dude!”

But the stares don’t go away, and Mickey lowers his eyes to the ground, not knowing what else to do or say. Luckily, Ian rescues him. He comes back over and puts his arm around his waist this time.

“Alright, calm the fuck down! Yes, Mickey and I ran into each other about a month ago, and we’ve been dating. It’s going well. It’s not like it used to be. He’s changed a lot, just like I have. It’s all good. It’s little to none of your business. Don’t be rude to him, unless he’s rude to you first. Welcome him as if he were a stranger you’d never met before in your lives.”

Ian looks back over at Mickey and smiles when their eyes meet. He knocks their foreheads together briefly and pulls away into the crowd. Mickey smirks around at them and gives a small uneasy wave before heading towards Kev, who he finds it the easiest to talk to.

“‘Sup,” he says, nodding at Vee behind him.

“Mickey fuckin’ Milkovich!” Kev sing-songs. “Where the fuck have _you_ been?”

Mickey smiles in thanks as Vee hands him a beer, “Been back in town over a year now. Live on the North Side. Own a bar over there.”

“No fuckin’ shit! Congrats, man, that’s awesome! I still got The Alibi myself. Doesn’t make enough to move outta this shitpile, though, but we’ve fixed up the house some over the years. Got two girls over there,” he says, gesturing to the 8-year-olds running around with hula hoops in their hands.

Mickey nods, taking a sip of the beer, “Nice, man. They’re cute.”

“Thanks!” Vee interjects. “You look good, Milkovich. Like someone finally cleaned you up properly; taught you what a bath is, gave you some fashion pointers.”

Mickey can’t help chuckling. “Yeah, yeah, get it all out now.”

Vee cackles, “Honey, you don’t want me to let it _all_ out, trust me. Best to not bring up all that old shit. Just take the compliment and move on.”

“She’s right,” agrees Kev. “You’ll probly get enough shit from Lip once he has a few more beers in him.”

Mickey rolls his eyes as he takes another swig. “Can’t fuckin’ wait.”

“So. . . you and Ian, huh? Butt buddies?”

Mickey chokes on his beer, coughing and leaning over to spit it back up into the dirt.

Kev ignores his predicament and soldiers on. “I heard about all that like years after the fact. Kinda surprised, I guess, but on the other hand, not really. Guess you and Ian woulda been more of a thing if you hadn’t been thrown back in jail, huh?” Kev had a way of blathering on and on and not knowing when to stop. “Heard you were in N.Y. though, man. Brooklyn, right? How was all that, then?”

So Mickey starts telling him about the early days in Brooklyn with Mandy, and slowly but surely begins to feel more at ease, even when Carl and Liam come up and stand there listening in on his stories.

Ian, meanwhile, is being cornered by Fiona and Lip across the lawn from where Mickey is talking to the Balls.

“Can I at least get a fucking drink or something before you both start in on me?” asks Ian.

“Lip, get him a beer,” Fiona says, pushing him in the direction of the cooler, before turning back to Ian. “ _Mickey Milkovich_ , Ian? What the _fuck_? How did this happen?”

Ian rolls his eyes, and grabs the beer from Lip, who has already darted back over to them, not wanting to miss anything. “I already told you,” he replies, taking a long pull off the bottle, “we ran into each other on the street. It was total coincidence. We ended up spending the whole night together.” Fiona and Lip make exasperated faces, which Ian cuts off. “ _Talking_! We spent hours just talking. He’s not the same person he was back in the day, I promise. You just have to trust me on that, and give him a fucking chance. It’s not like either of you never needed second, or third, or even fourth chances from people.”

Lip huffs. “But Ian. . . It’s still Mickey Milkovich we’re talkin’ about here. People can change, but they can’t fucking become someone else entirely. How do you know he won’t fuck you over again?”

“He never really fucked me over to begin with, okay? We were kids. We both did stupid shit. His was dumber than mine, and everything, but he didn’t really do anything wrong.”

Fiona eyes him knowingly, “Ian, you had strong feelings for him back then, and he was a dick to you. He strung you along, and you let him. Of course we’re gonna worry about you seein’ him again!”

Ian sighs. “What did I just fucking say? He’s not like that anymore, and neither am I! We’re on the same page. We’re taking it slow, and my eyes are wide open, okay? I’m done with the interrogation now. Let’s just hang out, and like I fucking said,” he reiterates, jabbing Lip in the chest with his index finger, “Be. _Fucking_. Nice!”

Lip snorts. “Yeah, I’m so fucking sure Mickey’s gonna be nice to me. I mean, he’s always been so sweet and gentlemanly in the past.”

“You fucked over his little sister!” Ian exclaims. “So there’s your fucking ‘pot calling the kettle black’ moment, asshole! Think about Mandy for a second.” He pauses. “She’s doing great, by the way. Looks amazing, too.” He smirks at the stunned look Lip shoots him, and claps him on the back, walking over to Debbie and his niece.

“Debs!” he cries, kissing her on the temple, and leaning down to scoop up the 3-year-old redhead at her feet and swing her up above his head. “Pens!” he yells as she giggles.

“Ian!” she shouts back as he spins her around, before pulling her close and tickling her tummy. “Put me down!” she cries between bouts of laughter.

As soon as her feet are back on the grass, she runs toward the twins now hulaing in the middle of the yard.

“She’s getting big,” Ian observes.

Penny Gallagher was born a few months before Debbie’s 19th birthday. The father had tried to stay in the picture at first, but in the end had bailed a couple months before Debbie was set to pop. It was an extremely hard time for her, and Ian had never seen her so upset in his life. It had broken all their hearts to see the girl they’d considered the best of them hurting so much over the same kind of poor decision making they’d all been guilty of. Many a family feud had broken out amongst the other siblings, debating the kind of examples Fiona, Lip, Ian, and even Carl had provided her, accusing and blaming one another for what should or shouldn’t have been, eventually circling back to the realization that it was really only two people’s faults in the end. . . their fucking shit parents. They were the the Gallagher kids’ most base foundation, and a pretty terrible one to build on.

But Debbie had stayed at Fiona’s and postponed going to college, and Penny was born healthy and happy, bringing more joy back into the Gallagher household. Debbie continued her ongoing work in child daycare, and was able to save up and move out into a little two bedroom with Penny a few blocks away by the time Penny was a couple years old, and soon she’d started going to night classes at the nearby community college, leaving Penny with Fiona or Vee on school evenings. It was still a struggle, but Debs was doing the best she could, and they were all really proud of her for it.

“Yeah,” Debbie answers. “Pretty soon, I’m gonna turn around and she’s gonna be in elementary school. At least I won’t be the youngest kindergarten mom in this neighborhood.”

Ian chuckles and cheers her with his beer. “Met any new dudes lately?”

“Pssh,” she hisses, sipping her lemonade, “hell no. Looks like you haven’t either, though.” She smirks.

“I guess not,” Ian concedes. “It still feels really new, though. I mean, so far, so good.”

“I’m glad,” Debbie says, smiling with candor. “You don’t have to worry about me hating on him, or whatever it is Fiona and Lip are doing. As long as he’s nice to you now, it doesn’t matter.”

Ian wraps an arm around her, hugging her to his side. “I don’t know that he’d ever describe himself as nice, but I think he kind of is. He’s one of those undercover good guys who pretends to be much tougher than he is. I appreciate your support, though. You should go talk to him. Make him feel like less of an outsider.”

Debbie titters. “You think I should soften him up with Penny?”

“Eh, couldn’t hurt. I’ve never really seen him around a little kid before.”

“Alright, I got this,” she says, reaching behind her and grabbing a bottle of bubbles off the stairs. “Pens!”

Ian watches fondly as Debs scoops Penny up and makes a beeline straight for Mickey, who looks right at Ian with a knowing glint in his eye. Ian arches an eyebrow, and covers up his smile by taking a drink of beer.

“Hey, Mickey!” Debbie calls brightly, coming at him quickly with a small redhead attached to her hip, which he assumes is her daughter that Ian had told him about.

“Hey,” he answers with a small grin. He’s not sure he’s ever really talked to her before. He mostly just knew who she was and that’s it. “Who’s this?”

“This is Penny, Ian’s niece,” she responds, handing him a bottle of blowing bubbles. “She really likes bubbles, but she’s not so good at blowing them yet. You wanna do the honors?”

“Ooh, boy, _can I?"_  he asks in a mocking tone.

Debbie laughs, but doesn’t let him off the hook. “Sure you can!”

He sets his beer down with an eye-roll and twists the cap off, looking over at Ian again to give him a ' _this is all your fault'_ sort of glare. Ian just laughs as Mickey takes the small wand out, and blows bubbles toward the ground for the small girl to catch.

“Okay,” Fiona says, approaching Ian from behind, “I guess that’s pretty cute.”

“What’d you think, he was gonna be shoving my toddler niece into the dirt or something? He’s a decent human being.”

“Yeah, alright,” she says, putting her arms around Ian from behind and perching her chin on his shoulder, standing on her tip-toes. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll give him a chance. I don’t know what the fuck we’re gonna have to talk about, but I promise I’ll try.”

“Thank you,” Ian answers. “That’s all I’m asking.”

He glances over at Lip, only to find him barely listening to whatever Carl is saying, but definitely leveling Mickey with a hard stare, unimpressed by his interaction with Pens and Debs.

“I may need your help with Lip, though,” Ian tells her. “Looks like he’s gonna be a harder sell.”

Fiona follows his gaze over to Lip and chortles. “Didn’t they always have some sort of rivalry that didn’t really have anything to do with you?”

Ian shrugs. “I don’t even know. They just never liked each other, and then he fucked Mandy, and I fucked Mickey, and it was just a mess.”

“Maybe you should just let them deal with it. It’s not like you need his fuckin’ approval.”

“Yeah, maybe."

“Stop worrying,” she tells him, stroking his hair and kissing his temple, before she pushes past him to head over where Kev is manning the grill.

He sees Liam sitting over on the stairs alone, reading a book. They shouldn’t have been surprised at what a well-behaved, smart kid Liam had turned out to be, seeing as he was the baby of their large brood and adored by everyone, not to mention the only one of them that had been raised almost exclusively by a doting Fiona, but they still kind of were.

They’d been worried early on that he may have some learning disabilities, especially after an incident during Fiona’s lowest point when he’d ingested a small amount of cocaine that had been left out at a party and almost ODed on their kitchen floor. She’d even gone to jail for a while, and Lip had been forced to take a semester off to take care of things back home. The ire that had come down on Fiona’s head was brutal, no matter how deserved, and it had taken a while for everyone to completely forgive, forget, and move on. But like everything else, they’d gotten past it. And Liam was like Debbie had been before the South Side rules had started corrupting her as a teenager. He actually tried. He was interested in school, and he liked to read for fun. He didn’t have a lot of friends, just a couple of kids that would show up every once in a while. He was on a fucking soccer team. Ian wasn’t even aware there _was_ a soccer team anywhere near their side of town, but Liam had expressed an interest in the sport, and Fiona had jumped at the chance to make him a part of a team and get him a bit more socialized.

“What’s up, buddy?” Ian asks, sitting on the step beside him, squeezing him around the scruff of his neck.

Liam shrugs his shoulders disinterestedly, “Just reading.”

“What are you into these days?” Ian prods.

Liam flips to the cover so Ian can read it. He recognizes it as classic sci-fi, but he’s never read anything by the author, never having taken an interest in the genre himself. “Never read anything by Heinlein,” he admits, “but I’m pretty sure Mickey has. You should talk to him about it. He’s into that kinda stuff.”

“Yeah?” Liam asks.

“Yeah. And I don’t think he’s exactly the book club type. He might like talking to a smart guy about some of the stuff he’s read.”

Liam snorts. “I’m sure he’s super interested in what a 13-year-old has to say about the classics.”

“Hey, you’d be more on his level of discussion than some collegiate literary review, trust me,” Ian confides with a small laugh.

“You gonna marry this dude or somethin’? Why are you trying to integrate him into the family on the first visit?”

“Whoa, slow down, man. We’re not like that at all, but I do care about him, and I just want you guys to like him. And I want him to like you too, so we can all do things together, and it won’t ever be weird. That’s important to me. You guys are important to me, and I want him to be important too.”

“Yeah, alright,” Liam says. “If you like him, I guess he’s cool.”

That’s what was so awesome about little brothers. They really clung to the notion that big brothers knew what they were talking about, and they didn’t need to be convinced in order to take you at your word. Liam and Carl were always easy like that. Debs was sweet, and cared about what Ian thought, but she did occasionally put up a fight. That was her female prerogative, he supposed. Boys were just simpler.

“FOOD’S READY!” Kev hollers, and Liam jumps up at that, tossing his book down and running towards the grill.

Ian shakes his head, grinning. Some things never changed around here.

He stands up and heads over to Mickey, watching in amusement as all the kids jump and bob around Fiona and Vee making their plates on the plastic folding table next to Kev. He leans down and grabs two more beers out of the cooler on the way, handing a cold one to Mickey as he opens his own.

“I noticed the beer isn’t complete shit,” Mickey says. “Your influence?”

“Lip’s too, I suppose. If either of us are around, we insist on something with flavor and actual alcohol content.”

“Beer snobs on the South Side,” Mickey laughs, shaking his head. “You think we’re the first of our kind?”

“Don't know. How ‘bout _gay_ beer snobs on the South Side?” Ian asks with an arched brow. “Definitely the first on that score, right?”

Mickey shakes his head again, “Nah, actually. When you think about all the shit we kept under wraps back in the day, I bet there’s all kinds of people out here doin' shit we don’t know nothin’ about. Not all of it can be bad, right?”

Ian chuckles. “You becoming an optimist, Mick?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Didn’t know you were so good with kids,” Ian teases.

“I blew a few fuckin’ bubbles, dude. It’s not a big deal.”

“It was still cute.”

“Yeah, I saw you send those two at me. What, you think I can’t resist the redheads in your family or somethin’?”

“Somethin' like that,” grants Ian. “You have to admit. . . it hasn’t been that bad.”

“Yeah, that’s because Lip has managed to stay on his leash so far. It’ll be a lot better once we’re back at your place later,” Mickey says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You mean you don’t wanna stay over here tonight? Have sex on the couch? We could get walked in on by various family members all over again, just like old times.”

“Never again, Gallagher,” Mickey emphasizes by poking him repeatedly with the neck of his beer bottle.

“Ooh, press that against the back of my neck,” demands Ian, pressing the chilled part of his own bottle to Mickey’s nape to cool him off.

Mickey snorts, but heeds the request, sliding the bottle underneath the back of Ian’s tee shirt collar. Ian hisses.

“Don’t make that noise here,” Mickey warns. “Reminds me of other things.”

“Oh yeah?” Ian asks lowly.

“Dude, don’t. There’s kids around. Remember that tiff we had the other day that almost turned into a fight?”

“Whatever,” Ian concedes. “Let’s eat some shitty barbecue.”

Ian and Mickey take their loaded paper plates, and plop down in two of the lawn chairs set around in a circle in the middle of the yard, ending up with Debbie on Mickey’s right, and Carl on Ian’s left, doing most of the talking as they eat.

“So Mickey, you still deal?” he asks.

“Nah, man, quit that shit a long time ago,” replies Mickey.

“I’ve seen some of your brothers around on the corners, though,” Carl presses.

“Yeah, I believe that,” Mickey responds.

“You don’t have anything to do with that anymore, then?”

“Jesus, Carl!” Ian cuts in. “He said he doesn’t, so leave it the fuck alone. Mickey runs a legitimate business, he doesn’t need to sell drugs to survive anymore. Maybe he can teach you a thing or two.”

“Whatever,” Carl says, “I got a legit job, too. Ask Kev!”

“He’s a decent bartender,” Kev confirms. “Mouthy as fuck, but decent.”

Kev had given into pressure from Fiona about six months prior, when she’d begged and pleaded for him to give Carl a shot at a position that opened up at The Alibi. She was desperate to get him into a legal line of work that she thought he’d actually be able to manage not getting fired from, and with the added bonus of Kev being able to watch over him, she convinced him it was perfect. Between her and Vee, there was no turning down the idea. They all knew that Carl was still openly dealing weed on the side, though. The most Fiona could do now that he was 20, was make damn sure he didn’t keep any of his product on their property. She didn’t know where his stash was, but she didn’t care as long as she and Liam couldn’t be affected.

“See! Not everything I do is fuckin’ illegal.”

“What a testament,” Ian states woodenly. “Liam, be like Lip, not like Carl, okay?”

Liam just shrugs indifferently, “‘Kay.”

“Fuck you, Ian!” Carl fumes.

Ian just laughs. Needling Carl successfully gets him to shut the fuck up about stupid shit, and Ian considers it a win when their side of the circle remains silent through the rest of dinner.

“You’re almost home free,” Ian whispers, leaning into Mickey.

“Thank fuckin' god,” Mickey whispers back. “How much longer we gotta stay?”

“I don't know,” Ian says. “An hour, tops. Maybe less.”

Mickey let’s out a long suffering sigh. “Fine. You owe me a blowjob as soon as we get in the door. Just because I said so.”

Ian chuckles. “Fine. You gonna return the favor?”

“Only if I feel like it, but it’s not a part of the deal.”

“Pfft, like you can resist this cock. It’s like a beacon.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Ian and Debs insist on cleaning up for Fiona, and as they gather trash and haul things inside to be put away, Mickey finds himself suddenly flanked by Fiona and Vee, who produce a bottle of midrange vodka from thin air it seems.

“Shots?” Vee asks, shaking the bottle at him, as Fiona holds up a fistful of Solo cups.

Mickey snorts, shaking his head. “Why not?” he says, grabbing a cup off the top of the stack.

“That’s my boy!” Vee eggs him on, grabbing a cup for herself, and waiting for Fiona to hold up her own before filling all three glasses with the equivalent of a double shot each.

Fiona giggles and holds her cup up in the middle, whooping. Vee does the same, and Mickey lifts his glass, insisting, “I’m not gonna fuckin’ _‘woo’_ like a chick.”

They laugh and toast his cup anyway, and they all swallow back the liquor at the same time. The girls ‘woo’ again, and Mickey cringes.

“Again!” Vee yells, and Mickey spots Kev shooting him a sympathetic look, like he doesn’t know what he just got himself into.

“You ladies tryin’ to get me drunk? Cuz I have to warn ya, it ain't gonna get you anywhere,” Mickey jokes.

“Oooh, sassy!” says Vee, as Fiona cackles. “Don’t you worry, I got a man. You can take your small, pale behind back to the North Side with your fine-ass boyfriend, I won’t stop you.”

“Okay then,” Mickey yields. “Hit me.”

Fiona smacks him in jest, then lets out another annoying guffaw.

“‘Ey! Don’t make me give your brother a bad review,” he teases.

“Ohhh, shouldn’t you be the one worried about bad reviews?” she asks.

“Nah,” he responds, shrugging. “We’re good. This whole thing’s gone good. Just make sure Lip doesn’t corner me and start some shit before I can get outta here, and I’m golden.”

Vee pours another round and holds up her cup for another toast. Mickey is pleased when they hold off on the whooping this time around. They down them, and Mickey falls back against the sticky, vinyl chair he’s sitting on, letting out a gruff, unintelligible sound of defeat.

“So you’re treatin’ my brother good then?” Fiona asks, and Mickey groans.

“I knew this was a roundabout way to give me the third degree.”

“What can I say, I’m not subtle.”

“Yeah, your delicate brother is in good hands, okay? I haven’t even done _one_ mean thing to him in a whole month.”

“Look, I know it hasn’t been that long,” remarks Fiona, “but I know how Ian used to feel about you. He already gave me the whole spiel about it being different this time, and how you’ve changed, and how you’re takin' it slow, and he’s all good, but I wanna hear it from you, cuz back when I knew you, you weren’t even gay as far as anyone was concerned. You definitely weren’t involved with my brother in secret, right under everyone’s noses. . .”

“Until you caught him blowin’ me that one time,” Mickey interrupts laughingly, and Vee cackles.

“Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me,” Fiona says, blanching. “Point is, I believe Ian when he says you’re not like that anymore, but the proof is in the pudding. So I’m askin’ you to show me, however you can. I know you’re not a talker, but for what it’s worth, I know Ian wants this to work. I can see that already, so I want it to work for his sake. I just hope you want the same thing.”

Mickey feels the warmth of the liquor loosening him up, and he’s not one to make declarations to the sisters of the boys he’s involved with (never in his fucking life), but he realizes that he does kind of want Fiona to like him. He knows that no matter what Ian says, he does care about what she thinks of him and everything to do with his life, which would include Mickey if they were gonna keep seeing each other.

“Look,” he says seriously, meeting her eye, “if you knew me, you’d know that I don’t really do relationships. I’ve never really met anyone I wanna do that whole thing with. But Ian’s different. I cared about him too, when we were kids. No one could see it, I don’t even know if I really saw it, but I realized later it was true. So I _am_ tryin’ for once. For him. And that’s all I can promise you right now. You can decide whether or not that’s enough, but just know that it _is_ enough for him. He gets me. Most people don’t, and that’s okay, but he does. I don’t really take that lightly.”

He swears he can see a tear forming in the corner of Fiona’s eye, and he’s about to withdraw from the whole situation, when a giant smile not unlike her brother’s breaks out on her face, and Vee grabs his shoulders from behind and shakes him appreciatively. And then Fiona Gallagher is hugging him, and Vee is going, “Awww!” in the background.

Despite the liquor, Mickey stiffens uncomfortably in her arms, not really able to react any other way, and he can _feel_ other people around the yard looking at them.

“Ian!” he hears Kev call out. “Come rescue your boyfriend from the clutches of these evil harpies!”

He looks to the left over Fiona’s shoulder and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Ian descending the back stairs, smiling wide at the sight of them obviously getting along.

“Fi, I think you can let go now,” Ian tells her, coming up behind her and prying her arms off of Mickey.

Vee takes the opportunity to lean in and kiss Mickey’s cheek, leaving a big fuchsia lipstick imprint behind, and Fiona turns to simper at Ian, “I like him, Ian. I like Mickey!”

Ian laughs, and crinkles his brow at him, “What the fuck did you do while I was in there?”

“Your boy said some sweet things about you, baby,” Vee supplies helpfully, and Mickey continues to look baffled and innocent.

“I have no idea what they’re talkin’ about, we just did some shots,” he states.

Ian gives him a knowing look, but let’s it slide, “Yeah, okay, tough guy. You ready to go?”

“Eh,” Mickey answers, “we can stay a bit longer.”

Ian’s eyes go wide with surprise. “Um. . . okay. . .” He pulls up a lawn chair in front of the three of them. “Pass me the bottle, Vee.”

Mickey smiles at Ian through his cringing as Fiona and Vee’s annoying chorus of ‘woos’ fill the air once more.

 

 

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to comment, message me, add me on Tumblr, or just leave a like or a kudos. It's meant a lot to me, and really encourages me to keep writing. I appreciate you all immensely, and would love to continue hearing from you, or even hear from you for the very first time. No input is too small.
> 
> Tumblr: [The Violet Jones](http://thevioletjones.tumblr.com/)


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